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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25613539">feather and lock</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirallings/pseuds/spirallings'>spirallings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>bokuaka week 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji is Bad at Feelings, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Beauty and the Beast Elements, BokuAka Week, Finist the Falcon Inspired, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:01:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25613539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirallings/pseuds/spirallings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hidden amongst a building of apartments, there's an old, secret library that only those touched by magic or magic themselves are able to find and enter. Akaashi Keiji is the newest secret-keeper and librarian of this ancient, dusty place, and his constant is the golden eyed man with a bright smile that is cursed to be man by day, unable to leave the library--</p><p>and an owl by night.</p><p>(inspired by @/perevision's Finist the Falcon AU comic)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>bokuaka week 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bokuaka Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>feather and lock</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/perevision/gifts">perevision</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/658921">BokuAka Finist AU</a> by perevision.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i have to first and foremost thank @/perevision for giving me permission to write a piece based on and inspired by their comic series based on this au! it's probably not at all the same as perevision's comic (which i highly rec y'all check out on twitter! same URL and handle!) but i love fairy tales and folklore and these two boys are so prime for fairy tale and fantasy material, i couldn't resist.</p><p>i won't be able to make an entry for every day of bokuaka week, but i'm glad to be here!</p><p> </p><p>  <i>day one: bookstore</i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he was hired by the library, it was as if Keiji’s world had gotten smaller and altogether so much larger than he ever could’ve comprehended all in once. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d been uncertain and confused as to why the old woman who owned the apartment lots that the library was hidden away in found him trustworthy and capable, but when the feather fell out of the box and became a great horned owl that flew out into the night, then came back the next morning at dawn as a man— Keiji wondered if it was because it was all so ludicrous that no one would ever believe him if he were to tell.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pure gold eyes bored into him with such an intensity it was as if Keiji were looking directly into the light of a star, overwhelming yet so entrancing, he couldn’t look away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was his life now; taking care of an old library where magical creatures and beings came in and out of for special books, seeking information that only the library contained, his days spent looking through stacks for anything he could offer to aid Bokuto in undoing the enchantment he was under. Given his relative lack of deep exposure into such matters pertaining to magical beings, Keiji didn’t know where to start to help him along with his other duties—only what Bokuto could remember.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The owl-man was scattered, a touch erratic in his mood and refused to wear a proper shirt most days, but Keiji couldn’t deny that his life had never been so full of activity and life until he came to the library.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a routine, of sorts: <em>the tap tap tap</em> of a hard beak against his window would wake him up at dawn, he’d lumber himself out of bed while keeping his eyes low so as to not look directly at Bokuto’s nude form when he transformed, then make himself and Bokuto breakfast before going downstairs to the library to start his work.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Most of it was centered around organizing the disarray of books into their proper places, but also fetching requested books for unknown and mysterious patrons. Keiji had to handle them carefully, as some of the books were even cursed. Encounters with those books were rare, a result of misplacement by uncaring hands, but they were dangerous nonetheless. Bokuto had once managed to save him from getting his fingertips ripped and sheared off by the pages of a particularly nasty cursed book. He hadn’t batted an eye when the book clamped down on his hand, leaving a bloody mess behind.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re a normal person, Akaashi,” Bokuto had said, a smile on his face despite the blood that was dripping through his knuckles, to Keiji’s horror. He didn’t seem to blink at the pain whatsoever, even as it began to pool towards his elbow. “This won’t hurt me like it would you! It’s better that I handle it. I won’t let anything bad happen to you here, Akaashi!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was only a few weeks into his employment when it happened. The guilt did not leave Keiji for days, even after he’d dragged Bokuto into the back to clean his hand and bandage it, putting aside his work in the meantime. Bokuto had tried to tell Keiji that he was fine and would heal okay, since he wasn’t human in the way that Keiji was, that he didn’t experience pain in the same way, but Keiji wouldn’t have it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s the principle of the matter,” said Keiji, trying to stay his shaking hands as he cleaned the blood off, trying not to feel sick with guilt at the bites along those large fingers.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’d been an odd expression on Bokuto’s face that day as Keiji took that larger hand in his own, calloused and so so <em>warm</em>, and wrapped bandages around it with gentle hands. Much like the bird he transformed into, Bokuto’s eyes were no less intense as he looked at him—not with the wide-eyed enthusiasm he normally portrayed but something altogether.. heavier. Headier.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As if he were seeing something that Keiji couldn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Working in this library was meant to be solitary work, but Bokuto filled those long hours filled with dust and the smell of old books with his loud but kind and warm nature, and Keiji had grown used to it. In fact, if he allowed himself to admit it—he’d even say that he’d started to look forward to it when he woke up every morning.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sound of a bell that hung over one of the many passages into the library drew Keiji’s attention and he looked up from the book he was currently reading, an old translation of Russian fairy tales, to see an Ezo red fox enter through a passageway. Unlike the typical coloring, the fox had a grey-silver coat, ears and paws tipped with a deep brown and black fur coating. The fox hopped onto his counter and when Keiji looked at him, pawed at the collar around its neck, where a little canister sat. The fox dipped its neck to allow Keiji to take a piece of paper: on the parchment was<em> Order for Kita Shinsuke</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah,” said Keiji. “Just a moment.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The fox waited patiently, prim and proper in comparison to the more rowdy twin foxes thatcaused quite the mess just two weeks before, as Keiji went to fetch the requested book. There was a satchel strapped to the fox’s back where the book fit perfectly, the fox staying perfectly still for him as he pushed it in. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you for your patronage,” said Keiji, dipping his head in a little bow.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The fox’s tail twitched and the grey furred fox offered a bow in return. Seeming to smile with his dark brown eyes, the kitsune leapt off of the counter and back towards the passageway, where he disappeared. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I guess Kita didn’t want Tsum-Tsum and Myaa-sam to cause you anymore trouble,” laughed Bokuto, legs swinging back and forth, mood jovial as he watched the librarian at work. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji could feel the phantom of a tension headache growing as he remembered the mess that the two kitsune had made when the twins had last come to the library for another pick up. As an apology and, after thoroughly scolding the twins, Kita had sent a lovely bottle of rice wine specially made by foxes. Keiji still had plenty left as he wanted to savor it. And, one day, share it with Bokuto in the evening. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If it were possible.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He is far more polite than both Miya-sans, I’ll admit,” Keiji sighed, closing his book and getting back to rearranging any incoming requests. “Perhaps it’d be more manageable if they could come on their own.. Osamu-san is plenty polite on his own, but Atsumu-san is—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji paused to think of a kinder word.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A pain in the ass, he wanted to say. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…Spirited, I suppose,” he said instead. Then, a beat. “And a bit of an asshole.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto laughed, a bark that echoed against the high walls and the ceilings. Keiji felt a soft smile twitch on his lips at the sound.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto was in a good mood today. Since his enchantment didn’t allow him to leave the library during the day, Bokuto had to be cooped up in the library and sometimes, the cabin fever got to him, leaving him on the moody side, surly, and on the especially bad days, snappish. Keiji learned to not take it to heart. On those bad days, he was especially apologetic when in owl form, bringing Keiji trinkets and little gifts as a plea for forgiveness. While it was tense when Bokuto was in a bad mood, Keiji couldn’t begrudge him for it and would sigh, murmur,<em> it’s all right, Bokuto-san, I’m not mad</em>, and scratch at the base of Bokuto’s neck when he was an owl, allowing him to perch on his shoulders as he made dinner or got out of bed just before sunrise. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t Bokuto’s fault that he was trapped in the library when in human form. Anyone would start to go stir crazy, if not a little mad, if they couldn’t go beyond the boundaries of the library and its vast complex without turning into a feather. If Keiji had to be under the same enchantment, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to cope as well as Bokuto did: he couldn’t imagine being able to smile like him every single day if he’d been cursed like that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had no idea how long Bokuto had been trapped in the library, either. How long he spent as an idle feather. Asleep and yet not. Aware, but not entirely. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How he’d not gone insane while trapped in the library was a mystery.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Keiji was here now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In between putting away books into the stacks, sorting through the various requests from other magical creatures, magic sensitive individuals and the spare few humans who were aware of the library’s existence, Bokuto filled the quiet with his chatter, constantly asking Keiji about his life, what the outside was like as a human person, even though Keiji himself didn’t think he was all that interesting. Certainly not compared to Bokuto, but he made excellent company. When he had time for a lunch break, Keiji made himself a strong jasmine tea and offered Bokuto a bento while he ate some of the onigiri Miya Osamu gave him as a plea for forgiveness. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he opened his fridge, Keiji frowned at how empty it’d gotten. His pantry was in a similar state. It’d been more then two weeks since he’d last gone grocery shopping, and with two endless stomachs to feed, he was running down and by tomorrow, there wouldn’t be enough to make breakfast with. With a great, heavy sigh, Keiji grabbed a notepad and a pen and began to write a list. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shouldn’t have felt a tightened weight on his chest as he spent the last few hours of his shift planning his trip to the store, something so simple and mundane. But when Bokuto leaned over his shoulder, lips so close to his ear that Keiji could feel the heat on the back of his neck, it sunk into his stomach.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whatcha doin’, Akaashi?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It took all of his restraint not to jump, but he still felt his toes curl in his shoes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Too close. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji swallowed and finished up the last of his list, primly folding it closed. The heat of Bokuto’s body was so thick that he could feel it through his clothing, and they weren’t even touching at all. Not that Keiji <em>hadn’t</em> thought about it, especially on some particularly quiet nights, but—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clearing his throat, he put the list in his pocket. “It’s just a grocery list.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a beat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji didn’t have to look at him to see the way he’d deflated. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So,” drawled Bokuto, a far less mirthful tone spilling into his voice. It was carefully flat. “You’re gonna have to leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a peculiar way Bokuto’s voice changed when he started to slip into one of his low moods, his ‘<em>emo mode</em>’ as Komi, one of the owl-men that occasionally visited the library, put it: surly, the pout in it audible, almost slurring his words in the way that a young, put out child would. There was the sounds of a body shifting and when Keiji turned, it was to the sight of Bokuto slumped against the counter, arms folded in front of him. His brows were furrowed, agitated.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji exhaled, shuffling books into a pile as the last of his tasks finished up. He kept his eyes on the clock because to look too long at Bokuto would be too dangerous for his heart.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s just for an hour or two, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t you get them delivered instead,” he muttered, brows drawing further together, wrinkling his forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know I can’t do that, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A harsh scoff snapped through the air and Bokuto turned his head away, and Keiji pursed his lips. It was a frequent point of contention: above all else, Keiji could <b><em>not</em></b> reveal where the library was, and since his apartment was in one of the top floors of the building it resided, getting his groceries delivers was simply not an option. It was part of the contract he signed when he was hired. He even had a separate P.O. box that he got his regular mail from that was a couple blocks down. Whatever other mail was associated with the library was given to him by eagle, crow and the occasional colorful owl. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji worried his bottom lip as he stared at the top of Bokuto’s wild head of hair. It was three hours until sundown. His finger twitched with the urge to run his fingers through that hair, much like he would when the other man was an owl, to soothe him, to put him at ease. He resisted.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I won’t be long, Bokuto-san. I just need enough to last through the next two weeks. I need to make sure I have enough to feed you, also—your stomach is like an endless void, are you not eating enough when hunting? Should I be concerned? Shall I leave strips of jerky on the window for you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The lightly teasing tone that a keen ear could hear beneath his deadpan tone was enough to make Bokuto snort with faint laughter. The man turned his head to look at Keiji, lower half of his face still buried by his arms. Half-lidded gold eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So long as it’s beef,” muttered Bokuto.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji hummed, wiping down the counter space. “I’ll make sure to buy plenty for you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto turned his head fully to face him, lifting it up above his arms and perched his chin on top of his elbow. His bright gold eyes seemed to glow in the faint orange light of the dim library, much like the bird of prey he transformed into at night. The light settled over his body like a lover.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were bright with intensity.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will you be back before sunset?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The whisper settled in the base of Keiji’s spine. He never knew what to do when Bokuto looked at him like that, never knew what it meant. He was scared to find out what it was, but yearned to know at the same time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll do my best.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto gave a brittle grin and Keiji felt his heart swell.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The world was conspiring against him, Keiji was certain. He had no doubt that there was some otherworldly force that was making the lines at Ozeki agonizingly long, along with the train ride back to his apartment. His shoulders were aching from the weight of his bags of groceries, and it would’ve hurt more had he not done volleyball in high school and middle school. Luckily, most of the muscles he had from the sport retained themselves and made the commute back home somewhat less agonizing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was less than an hour until sunset and the train was delayed. Since it’d gotten colder with the oncoming winter, the days had grown shorter. Keiji’s heel tapped against the floor of the train impatiently, exhaling through his teeth when it finally started to move again. As soon as the doors to the train opened again, Keiji was rushing out while trying not to shove too many people out of his way; he didn’t mean to be rude, but he had to get home before sunset.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He and Bokuto had a routine and Keiji meant to adhere to it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He would never forget the terror that struck through him when he saw Bokuto step out of the doorway once a month before during an moment that got heated on both ends, when Keiji was struggling to adjust to all of these new things in his life and showed his frustration by walking out of the library during the day, and instead of a man or an owl, there was a feather. He didn’t change back until midnight. The guilt stayed with him for days. Keiji remembered the tidal wave of panic and guilt that overcame him, and it was only through Konoha’s blithe assurance that Bokuto would be okay if he brought the feather back inside and dropped it to the floor at midnight. He’d felt awful and apologized for days, even after Bokuto laughed it off. It still lingered sometimes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The limitations put upon Bokuto by the curse was never so evident than when Keiji had to leave during the day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ignoring the ache of his ankles and heels against the cement, Keiji fumbled with his keys as he turned a corner that would be unknown to the regular eye, leading him towards a side door to the library. The light of his apartment window was off and Keiji’s phone chimed, alerting him that there was only thirty minutes left until sunset. He felt no relief until he reached the elevator, sagging against the walls as it lifted him up: the building was quite old on the inside, but Keiji was thankful for modern contraptions and technology, even if the elevator moved slower than a typical lift in a new skyscraper. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As if to mock him, the elevator seemed to go even slower than normal, the minutes it took to reach the top floor agonizingly slow before Keiji sprinted out toward the door to his apartment. Trying to balance the weight of the bag of groceries on one shoulder, muscles straining with agony, Keiji opened his door to a dark apartment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sun was pouring through the window, the ceiling high and pooling warm orange and purple into the sparse, minimal apartment. Rows of books and half-filled shelves lined the walls. There was the smell of now cooled and lukewarm hibiscus and jasmine tea.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Slumped against his kitchen table was Bokuto, arms folded and head on his arms. At the sound of the door clicking shut, he shot up, gold eyes bleary and tired. He blinked, and then a smile, languid and tired grew on his face, eyes crinkling.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Akaashi. You’re back.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His shoes slipped off of his feet easily as Keiji stepped into the kitchen. “I’m home,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto’s smile spread as he sat up, then leaned in towards Keiji as he set the bag down. His fingers twitched, and for a moment, Keiji thought he was about to reach out towards him. His eyes failing and tricking him, he decided. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Less than twenty minutes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gold eyes flickered to the bag of groceries, and then the man stood up, an easy grin on his lips.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll help you put them away, ‘Kaashi.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji tried not to focus on Bokuto’s body heat pressed against him, the way it brushed against him, the nervous fluttering energy beneath the skin and heat, as if feathers were already starting to grow without the sun having set yet. The glow of his gold eyes was sharper, more predatory, as the sun set like molasses over the increasingly dark sky—a clear night, good for flying. No rain, no snow. It would be safe for him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto’s owl features were always more visible before sunset: a kaleidoscope of man and bird of prey.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It took ten minutes to put away the groceries. As they did every night, they stood by the skylight window.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he did every night before sunset, Keiji reached for the latch and rope that pulled the skylight window down, and drew the rope down, leaving room for the owl to fly out into the night skyline.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Akaashi—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji looked over his shoulder, breath hitching.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bokuto had suddenly moved from the threshold of the kitchen to right beside him. A strange expression was on his handsome face: forlorn, softer at the edges, and something <em>other</em> that made Keiji’s chest twist, as if the other man was trying to peel back flesh to see into him, his soul and heart, bore naked before him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji held his breath and he waited.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Every night, every morning—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will you marry me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—He asked the same question.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji briefly closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two minutes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He opened them, and his mouth curved into a half-smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not today, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t him that Bokuto wanted. Not really—he was just the librarian, just the caretaker, he was meant to help Bokuto undo the curse. There wasn’t anything particularly special or unique about Akaashi Keiji. The first time he’d asked that question had startled him so much, but with each consecutive night and morning that followed—Keiji knew it had to be because Bokuto was desperate to figure out the complicated nature of his curse. Keiji was the helper, a placeholder: surely, it wasn’t him. If it were anyone else, Bokuto would’ve asked them, too.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji had to believe that. To believe otherwise— that was too much.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One minute.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sun disappeared beneath the sharp lines of skyscrapers, the last rays of orange fading into dark. In the right light, the stars were visible.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before Bokuto, the man, could reply, a flap of wings. The fading of a human form into something smaller, features twisting and curving like a still wet canvas, the colors and oils folding into one another. The screech and hoot of a speckled grey and brown feathered owl with large tufts that looked like horns.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The owl flew onto the rail of the skylight window, black talons coiling around the frame. Instead of rushing into the cold night air, the horned owl clung to the railing and looked at him. His chest feathers puffed out as he gave a low, slow hoot, blinking slowly. Odd. Bokuto usually flew out of the window as soon as he’d transformed, tired of being cooped up in the library. Keiji wondered what was holding him back this time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keiji looked up at the great horned owl and met those gold eyes. He smiled.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll see you in the morning, Bokuto-san.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The great horned owl considered him and beneath the beak and the feathers, Keiji thought he could see Bokuto’s human face, peering at him with that unreadable look he’d catch the other man staring at him with.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It made him feel exposed in every intimate possible way.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The owl gave a deep-throated hoot that vibrated in Keiji’s bones, spread his wings, and then took flight, nary making a sound as he dipped towards the city below. It was only moments before Keiji could no longer see him. Even still, he stood by the window, hand pressed against the glass as he watched the night sky and the still bustling city below. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nails dragging against the window as he lowered his hand, Keiji walked away from the window and went to the kitchen to finally make dinner. How nice it would be to finally share a proper meal with him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perhaps one day. One day.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll be waiting,” he murmured.</span>
</p>
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